The meaning of life
It’s 2:13 AM in Turin right now. I’m still awake, compiling stuff and listening to the Dark Side of The Moon album by Pink Floyd.
Half an hour ago a strong wind started to blow on the city. When I give a look through the window, I see the trees beside the street shaken and frightened by the strength of the elements. Nobody dares to walk at this time of the night: tomorrow everyone outside will have something to do, a goal to accomplish, someone to meet, a partner to satisfy. An alarm starts to sound in the distance… it seems like somebody will be tired and sleepy in the morning and will have to blame his neighbor’s absence or the electrician’s incompetence. Or both.
While Roger Waters explores the meaning of time, a window not carefully secured rams, some rooms on my left. I recognize that sound, it is the window in the stairs, giving onto the internal yard of the block. Even if its strikes are loud and frequent, nobody will get out and close it, so I guess it will continue to annoy the dreams of the inhabitants of the building for a long time. I recall that I’ve never seen that window properly shut, even in the coldest day of winter.
Money, get away.
Get a good job with good pay and you’re okay.
This is what keeps me living. This is the meaning of my life.
Add comment February 13th, 2007
